5-Year Post-Liver Transplant-Aversary



Ah Ike…was it really five whole years ago that we came into your room at the Infant Intensive Care Unit to see you and your new liver? 60 months later…that’s as long as a new car loan. Have we really been in the city of destiny for all that time? Have we really all grown that much older?

I remember the first thing we did that day (well after patting the only piece of exposed skin on your face, your pink little forehead) was to take a look at your chart to check out your ammonia level. My memory is that is was in the mid thirties though I’d have to ask sweetie to be exact. I remember being pretty excited because though you were still intubated, had about a dozen IV lines all over the place and your stomach was so swollen that it wasn’t stitched up, but only covered with a thick latex patch, you still looked way better than all the other times when we had seen you close to death. I remember thinking "hell, you look great!"

In hindsight I guess it was pretty clear that we were having a rough year when unconscious and new livered we had already seen you in worse condition. You were pink and sleeping soundly even though the breathing tube was helping you along and the whole thing felt oddly comforting—comforting that we knew how much sicker you could get and still pull through.

Even then we were in awe of how tough you were.

The liver of course has been a good one, and not a day goes by that I’m not thankful for what it’s given me. Today I picked you up from school early so that we could go out to Good Samaritan Hospital in Puyallup to get some splints to help your wrists be not so twisted. We hung out and you smiled at the nice casting nurses and at me and then back at the nurses over and over again while they stretched out your arms and wrists and covered them in plaster. You didn’t complain once.

Five years…five years of diapers, of medicine, of doctors’ appointments and surgeries. Five years of listening to you laugh yourself to sleep, of you yelling at the cat, of saying ah-da ah-da ah-da after you cough and of watching you kick your legs to let me know you’re happy.

In all that time, there is not a day that’s gone by that I haven’t seen you smile and in turn made me smile in reply.

There are few people I know who posses both the strength and gentleness you do. The Dali lama maybe or Nelson Mandela are the only other two who come to mind—really, we're at that level of greatness nodoubtaboutit.

Happy Anniversary Isaac.

I Love you, Dad

Comments

Anonymous said…
Desmond Tutu comes to mind as well...Continued Blessings to IPD and team Norton-Purcell!
OM NAMAH SHIVAYA
9:04 AM
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